


A Padalecki Special

by Callisto



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Schmoop, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callisto/pseuds/Callisto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Jensen toes his boots off and groans when his aching back hits the sofa. He’s been hunched over monitors all week, thrown at the odd wall or two as per fucking usual, and fought off the mother of all migraines the last day and a half. About all he has left to say is God bless Monday and just being Dean Winchester again.</i></p><p>Set around Jensen directing a recent season 7 episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Padalecki Special

“Jensen?”

Jensen clears his throat, tries not to sway too much when the sleeves of his jacket get caught around his wrists like he’s four. He shivers and fights a sneeze. Goddamn Vancouver.

“Yeah,” he manages. Fuck it, the jacket can stay on the floor till morning. Which he knows by the way he’s fighting a yawn, is too close already. He sighs, levers himself away from the wall with his hand, and asks himself for the twenty billionth time what the hell he thinks he’s playing at.

He eyes the stairs, but heads for the muted laughter and faint light he can see from the open door to the living room.

“Hey,” he gets in greeting.

Jensen just nods in reply, stands in the door frame a moment. Jared is on the sofa, legs sprawled on the coffee table in front of him, head turned over the back of the sofa toward Jensen. Sheldon is being his usual dickish self on the small screen, and Jensen catches the faint smell of something caramel and sweet from the small bowl next to Jared’s stocking feet. Only one lamp is on, giving the room–and Jared–a soft muted glow that makes Jensen’s tired and gritty eyes sting a little.

“Dogs?” He says, because it’s all he can think of, and besides, Jared is watching him with this slow-smiling air, like he knows exactly what sappy shit is going through Jensen’s overstretched brain right now.

“Sacked out in the kitchen. You?”

Jensen grimaces as he straightens. “Sacking out as we speak.”

“Aw, poor baby. So much talent, so little time...” Jared makes a tutting noise and Jensen finds the energy to give him the finger.

“Screw you, Padasomething. I’m going to bed.”

“Not right now you’re not. Get your ass over here, Ackles.”

“Jay...” Jensen really is tired. Like fall down and sleep in Dean’s boots on the carpet tired, and if he gets over to that sofa he may never get up again.

“Jensen.” Jared pats the cushion next to him. “Trust me.”

Jared is doing a decidedly Sam-like thing with his eyes. Jensen rolls his. “Oh, put those away. Christ.”

But he’s moving, even as he’s shaking his head. “I swear. If I ever want to do this again, shoot me in the head.”

“My pleasure.”

Jensen toes his boots off and groans when his aching back hits the sofa. He’s been hunched over monitors all week, thrown at the odd wall or two as per fucking usual, and fought off the mother of all migraines the last day and a half. About all he has left to say is God bless Monday and just being Dean Winchester again.

The sofa dips and he squints an eye to his left. “What’re..?”

Jared squeezes his knee. “Hold tight, be right back.”

Jensen stares at him. “I drag my sleep-deprived ass all the way over here and you get up? Fuck you, Jared.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jared throws cheerfully over his shoulder. “Watch Sheldon, Jensen.”

“Hate Sheldon,” he mutters. He doesn’t, but petulance is all he’s capable of right now. He leans back, closes his eyes, and tries to let the shenanigans on screen wash over him... But he overshot one of Colin’s scenes on Friday, and Serge is going to kill him, never mind Sera, because the lighting was off and it’s gonna look crap in the editing suite tomorrow and he’ll have to try and fix it without—

“Hey.”

He opens his eyes to find Jared standing next to the coffee table and holding out a rather full glass. “Switch your brain off and take this.”

Wary, Jensen reaches out. It’s warm whatever it is. He sniffs and raises an eyebrow at Jared, who just smiles.

“Sip. Slowly.”

Jensen does, and for a second thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. It’s hot whiskey with lemon, honey, and something else sweet and lovely, and it's all burning his throat in the best possible way.

“Wow,” he says, smacking his lips.

Jared clinks his own glass against Jensen’s, then sits down beside him again. “A Padalecki Special. Thought that might hit the spot.”

Jensen takes another sip as Jared thumbs the remote and Sheldon disappears.

“I thought you were watching this, Jay."

Jared picks up another remote and aims it at the corner of the room. The low, twangy sound of Garth Brooks spills out.

“Better?”

Jensen swallows. All he can trust himself to do is nod.

They sit and sip side by side, feet and socks occasionally rubbing together. Jared slides his right arm around Jensen and tugs him closer. Jensen thinks about resisting being so blatantly coddled, but fuck it, Jared can totally be the boyfriend for the moment. He waggles his right foot in the direction of the bowl. He can’t quite see what’s inside it.

“What d’you sacrifice this time?”

Jared snort-laughs into Jensen’s hair. “One of those white Kit Kats? But it didn’t really work. Too crumbly.”

Jensen shakes his head. “Dude, I am taking that fryer away from you.”

“Nah. I’mma dip a pizza in it tomorrow. It’ll be awesome, you’ll see.”

Jensen’s turn to snort-laugh.

Another mouthful of hot whiskey and Jensen realizes something. “Wait. It’s Saturday,” he says, pulling back and trying to sit up.

“Uh-huh.” Jared is just looking at him.

Jensen blinks. “So, aren’t you supposed to be turning a pile of bricks into a kitchen?”

Jensen had to stay in Vancouver this weekend. His perfectionism and downright fear of looking like the amateur he is not allowing him to be anywhere but on set and in the post-production suite. Which meant Jared was supposed to fly solo down to LA early this morning to supervise renovations on an old-style Spanish property they’d recently sunk their hearts and salaries into. Plus, there’d been some launch party of Chad’s Jensen was sure Jared had promised to go to.

“Jared?”

“What?”

“Answer me. What happened?”

Jared wraps his right arm around Jensen again, pulls him in enough to kiss his temple and keep him there. “Nothing, you worry wart. Trust me, that pile of bricks will still be there next week. Finish your drink, man.”

Jensen should get to the bottom of this, he should. But the warmth of the man beside him is doing its thing, Garth is singing about chancing rapids and dancing tides, and he has a goddamn Padalecki Special flowing through his veins.

So he does the only thing he can. He lays his head on Jared’s awesomely wide shoulder, closes his eyes, and finally– _finally_ –stops thinking about Serge kicking his ass.

******


End file.
